Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1963: Overdue
Chapter 1963: Overdue
Villain Ch 1963. Overdue
He’d been there before Allen and Mila walked in. Alone, hoodie up, back slouched against the vinyl booth, hoping for a quiet takeout order and five minutes of peace. He wasn’t even that hungry. Didn’t plan on sitting. Just needed to get out of the apartment. Too quiet lately. Too still.
At the counter, when the worker asked what he wanted, he’d opened his mouth to say “Just fries” but instead, somehow, what came out was… “Large soda float.”
It surprised even him.
He didn’t question it until the drink hit his hand. Cold fizz at the bottom, soft-serve melting into sugary clouds on top and then it hit him why.
His mom used to order this.
Back when they were broke but trying. When she had to dig coins from under car seats and bargain for weekend fun. Soda floats were her guilty pleasure. Said they were ridiculous, over-the-top, and exactly what life should taste like. She called it “liquid joy in a cup.”
And now she was gone.
Two weeks ago. Right in the middle of Sophia’s whole spiral. While the internet was screaming about Allen, screaming about sex tapes and stream snipes and betrayal and broken legends, Jacob was at a funeral. Closed casket. No press. Just grief and silence and too many handshakes from people he didn’t remember.
So now here he was, holding a stupid soda float in a plastic cup, stirring it absently as it melted.
Trying to feel like it meant something.
Then Allen walked in.
With her.
Mila Sterlinghart. Long legs. Effortless elegance. Rich girl aesthetic, not the annoying kind, the kind that made you feel like maybe you didn’t brush your teeth right. And Allen—Goldborne heir, the boy who climbed out of digital hell and betrayal like it was a training montage.
They walked in like they owned the air.
No security. No handlers. No entourage.
Just two people. Laughing. Leaning close.
It was… surreal.
Jacob blinked. Then instinct moved faster than thought. He slid his phone from his hoodie pocket, angled it slightly, and tapped once.
-Snap!
One clean photo. Allen and Mila at the booth, heads tilted, fingers brushing over fries. Quiet smiles. Like this was their first date and also their hundredth.
He sent it. To Elio.
Jacob: Allen Goldborne spotted. In the flesh. Next door to the Cyber building. With Mila.
No need to explain further.
Three seconds later.
Elio: Be there in five. Don’t let him leave.
Jacob smirked into his straw. The soda float was melting now, syrupy and nostalgic in the worst way. He stirred it again. Didn’t drink.
Another buzz.
Elio: You’re a legend.
He leaned back, hoodie still half over his head, and waited. He knew Elio. Knew the way he got when something felt unfinished. And he’d said it himself, back during the funeral reception, between hugs and awkward condolences.
“I wish I could talk to Allen face-to-face,” Elio had muttered, eyes on the floor. “Not as player and rival. Just as people.”
Jacob remembered nodding, but not saying much. His throat had been full of other things that day.
And now?
Now Elio had a shot.
Right on cue, the door flew open with a gust of wind and rushing breath.
Elio stormed in, helmet still in one hand, half-panting from the sprint across the lot. His hair was wind-tousled, face flushed, jacket half-zipped. His eyes scanned the room fast.
They landed on Allen immediately.
Still at the booth.
Still with Mila.
And yeah, they were a different kind of beautiful. Not staged. Not influencer-polished. Just two people with too much legacy sitting down in a cheap burger joint like it was sacred.
Elio didn’t bolt. Didn’t yell.
He walked.
Deliberate. Steady.
He reached their booth and stood there, still catching his breath.
“Allen.”
Allen didn’t look surprised. Just mildly annoyed. Like a raincloud had walked in.
“Elio.”
“Mind for a talk?” Elio asked, voice even. “Five minutes. Ten, max. Private.”
Allen exhaled. Not a sigh. More like a huff. “What do you want?”
“No heat,” Elio said quickly, holding up his hand. “No challenge. No shade. Just a talk. I don’t know… after everything, I feel like it’s overdue.”
“We settled it in Hell’s Gate,” Allen said flatly.
“But not here,” Elio replied. “Not in this world. Not where it counts.”
Allen stared at him for a moment. Quiet calculation in his eyes. Measuring. Weighing.
Then Mila touched his hand gently. Her fingers were soft. Warm. Just enough pressure to be felt.
“Go ahead, Allen,” she said softly. “I’ll wait for you.”
He glanced at her. She didn’t flinch. She meant it.
He stood. Straightened his jacket. Tilted his head toward the back patio door. “Let’s talk, then.”
And they walked away.
Two rivals. Two players who’d been broken, stitched back together, and thrown into the fire again.
And Jacob?
He stirred his soda float once more.
Smiling.
Not because the drama was juicy.
Because he knew Elio needed it.
Out on the back patio, the air was cooler than inside. No music playing. No fryer oil in the air. Just the hum of the nearby street and the quiet flicker of old neon reflecting off the windows. The light caught on Allen’s cheekbones like glass. He stood near the railing, arms crossed, body still. Sharp as always, even when off-duty.
Elio let the door swing shut behind him. He still had his helmet in one hand, fingers flexing against it like he hadn’t realized he’d carried it all this way.
Allen glanced at him. “Okay. Speak.”
Elio took a slow breath, still catching up from the sprint, still winded more from nerves than running. “I know you don’t care about Sophia anymore,” he said. “And I’m not saying you should.”
Allen didn’t react. His face stayed blank. Bored, almost. But his eyes were steady. Watching.
Elio continued, voice quieter now. “I visited her. This afternoon. With Gilbert.”
Allen’s brows twitched. Barely. “Go on.”
“She’s… not good,” Elio said, and there was no dramatic tone behind it. Just honesty. “Still in the ward. Still repeating your name like it’s some kind of spell. Still holding your old photo like it’s the last real thing in her life.”
